Colonel Hitler
by Brave New Writer
Summary: We see why Herring acts the way he does. Sorry this chapter's so short.
1. Drinkin' and Drivin'

July 26th, 1951 dawned a beautiful, perfect day. Well, as beautiful and perfect as a day can get in a war-torn country like Korea.  
  
An Army jeep rattled and bounced down a dusty back road, occasionally veering to the left or right. The driver was singing a drunken version of "The Star-Spangled Banner", and a hiccup punctuated every other word. Normally, Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake was a terrific singer, but he was on his way to a medical conference in Seoul, which he dreaded as always. Henry also tended to drink more than usual just before. He pushed up his fishing cap and raised a canteen to his lips. It was filled with what he called "White Lightning", the alcoholic melting pot of a drink that Hawkeye Pierce and Trapper McIntyre made from their Still.  
  
Now, there had been warnings that a Korean sniper was in the area that Henry was driving through. It was likely that even if he had been sober, Henry still wouldn't have remembered. So, the Colonel was completely caught off guard as gunfire erupted from a nearby tree. One bullet found its way to the engine, and the jeep stopped with a jerk. Henry, still in a drunken stupor, opened the door and started running. The gunfire continued. He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his left leg, and he dropped to the ground.  
  
Henry tried to escape by dragging his leg, but the sniper's bullets caught up with him. They strafed up and down his body. He attempted to raise his arm, but it was like his whole body had gone numb. "Aw, hell no," he whispered. Some of the bullets had struck his spinal cord, and he was paralyzed.  
  
The gunfire stopped as abruptly as it had begun. With sweat dripping down his face, Henry made every attempt to move, with no result. He couldn't feel any pain, but he started yelling as if hell had broken loose. When nobody came, Henry gave himself up for lost. Everything went dark.  
  
2 hours later . . .  
  
"Colonel Blake?" A woman's voice broke through Henry's thoughts. He slowly opened one eye, and immediately shut it again as blazing sunlight poured through an open window. "Colonel Blake?" Tentatively, Henry opened both eyes, and found himself staring into a pair of beautiful blue eyes. "Lor . . .Lorraine?"  
  
The woman shook her head. "I'm Lieutenant Judy Reynolds. You're in an Army hospital in Seoul." Henry lifted up a hand, and was relieved to find that he was no longer paralyzed. He struggled to get up on one elbow, but fell back as a throbbing pain went through his chest. "Oh, God. Feels like a hangover, only much worse. What happened?"  
  
Lieutenant Reynolds clasped his hand. "You were shot. The surgeon discovered no less than seventeen bullets embedded in your body. Four hit your spinal cord, two pierced your lungs, and one nicked your heart. You're lucky to be alive."  
  
Henry's eyes widened. "Jesus Christ," he murmured.  
  
"How's the Colonel doing, Judy?" A 20-something doctor walked into the hospital room and picked up Henry's chart. "I'm Captain Douglas, the surgeon who operated on you. Uh . . .I just have one question for you, Colonel." Henry nodded. "Shoot." "Were you, by any chance, drinking? Or did you have something to drink before you left your unit?" Henry began counting off on his fingers. "Oh, let's see . . .when I woke up this morning, I had my daily glass of gin. I had two shots of rum just before breakfast, so I wouldn't be able to taste it. I had a mix of stuff from the camp Still, and I drank an entire bottle of bourbon before I left. Oh, and I had a pick-me-up just before the sniper started shooting."  
  
Captain Douglas rubbed his eyes. "Colonel, don't you know how dangerous drinking is? I know. When I was sixteen, I had brandy at a party and wrecked my father's car." He put Henry's chart back down and looked Henry right in the eyes. "I have never touched a drop since, and I'm all the better for it."  
  
Henry started to protest, but the Captain held up his hand. "I'm going to call your unit and Seoul HQ. You're going to be here for at least a week. HQ needs to get a temporary CO in." After he left, Henry looked at Lieutenant Reynolds. "Would you happen to have a little brandy with you?" She rolled her eyes, and walked out of the room. "A drop? A smidgeon?" Henry called after her. 


	2. Meet Hitler, er, Herring

Lieutenant Reynolds waited impatiently in the doorframe of Henry's hospital room. She had delivered his lunch exactly forty-eight minutes ago, as she checked the clock in his room. Henry was slowly mixing his creamed corn and mashed potatoes together, as he didn't feel like eating. What he really wanted was a drink.  
  
The Lieutenant was under strict orders to make sure that Henry ate all of his lunch. When she had told him this twenty minutes ago, the only response was a sarcastic "Yes, Mother."  
  
"Excuse me, ma'am. Is this Colonel Blake's room?" The Lieutenant turned around, startled. An older man wearing a general's uniform was standing there, patiently waiting for an answer. His nametag (I don't know what those things are called) said his name was Hammond. "Oh, General! Yes, this is his room," she said, quickly saluting. Hammond nodded pleasantly and walked in.  
  
Henry was now trying to hide the corn/potato mess in his napkin, because he thought that this slop made even the Mess Tent food look good by comparison. He was so absorbed in this he didn't notice Hammond at the foot of his bed until the general cleared his throat. "Oh, General Hammond! Uh, good to see ya, sir!" Hammond smiled and saluted smartly. "I would salute back, only every time I try, it feels like I'm having a heart attack," Henry said, with a sheepish grin. Hammond chuckled and sat down on the bed. "Heard what happened. I'm on the way to your unit right now, and I just thought I'd stop by and see how you're holding up."  
  
Henry shrugged, wincing as a dagger of pain went through his chest. "Fair. Say, General? You wouldn't have any bracer, would ya, sir?" The general shook his head. "Even if I did, I understand you're not to have any." Henry sighed. "Damn it, that's all I want! That, and to get outta this hospital."  
  
Hammond took off his hat. "This has probably got to be the worst thing that's ever happened to you, Colonel." Henry suddenly grinned. "No," he said sarcastically, "it's not. It can't be. Let's see, what's happened to me that's always resulted in my near death? The latrine blew up around me a couple times. Badly broken bone in both cases. A driverless jeep nearly ran me over, scaring the whatsis outta me. A pilot tried to push me out of a moving chopper. Now, every damn time I hear a jeep backfire, I jump high into the air. But, this? You're asking me to compare every death attempt to this? No, General, this is nothing." He never lost the sarcastic tone of voice.  
  
"I'm sorry, but I've never had the latrine blow up on me." Henry was still grinning. "Of course not, the North Koreans have it out for me. They like you." Hammond noticed that Henry's eyes were a little glazed. "Colonel, are you all right?"  
  
"General, could I see you for a moment?" A young voice startled Hammond. Captain Douglas stood at the door, motioning to the general. Hammond, with one last look into Henry's glazed eyes, left. "Uh, please sir, don't tell the Colonel this, but we had a complication during surgery." "What kind of complication?" Douglas took a deep breath. "Apparently, while we were attempting to remove the bullet that struck his heart, we left some fragments in there. Also, the heart and surrounding areas became contaminated and infection set in. The Colonel believes he'll be back at his unit in a week. I just don't have the heart to tell him that it's quite possible that he'll be dead before the week's over."  
  
Hammond felt as if his own heart stopped. He couldn't believe it . . .his friend, dying? "Sir, I think you should go to his unit, the 4077th I believe, and introduce them to who may become their permanent CO." Douglas' voice shattered Hammond's thoughts. "Yes . . .that sounds like a good idea."  
  
Later . . .  
  
"Attention, all personnel! General Hammond is now entering the compound."  
  
As usual, the personnel of M*A*S*H 4077 entered formation rather sloppily. This time, Hawkeye and Trapper, in their bathrobes of course, decided to grace this one with their presence. The jeep containing Hammond and the new CO pulled up in front of the flag, and Hammond energetically hopped out. He saluted Frank Burns, who, having always clammed up around generals, laughed nervously. "I am here to introduce you to your perma . . .ah, I mean temporary CO, a very good friend of mine." Hammond gestured to the other man in the jeep, who got out without a word and marched over to Hammond's side. The color of the man's hair couldn't be seen, because of the large brim on his hat, but his eyes were a cold, ice cold, blue. They glared at the assembled personnel. His gaze suddenly fell on a strange- looking woman dressed in the red suit of a business girl. The man marched over and looked over the person he thought was a she. "What is your name and rank, miss?" he snapped.  
  
"Corporal Max Klinger, sir," came the unexpected response. The woman was a man! He was momentarily taken aback, and then shouted, "Well, soldier, next time I see you, you better be dressed like a soldier!" Klinger shrunk back, intimidated by this rather large man. Hammond clapped his hands together. "Everybody, this is Colonel Herring."  
  
Hawkeye snickered at the name. "What kind of name is THAT?" he whispered loudly to Trapper. "I bet ya ten bucks that his first name is Guppy."  
  
Herring strode over to Hawk and Trap. "Would you care to repeat that, smartass?" He took off his hat, revealing a shock of dark brown hair. Hawkeye, as smart-alecky as ever, replied, "Sure would. I made fun of your name and bet ten bucks that your first name's Guppy." He smiled.  
  
"Wrong answer, buster! Name and rank!" "My name's Trapper John O'Reilly, and pardon my rank. I haven't showered since my last nurse."  
  
Herring's eyes grew even colder. "I'm putting you on report, Captain Benjamin Pierce!" Hawkeye grabbed his dog tags. "Damn, a dead giveaway, and here I was, thinking you were stupid."  
  
That evening in the Swamp . . .  
  
"I have a good feeling that Colonel Herring is going to get THIS M*A*S*H unit on track at last!" Frank said, leafing through a medical journal. Hawkeye gulped his martini, belched, and said, "You two oughta find some common ground, Frank."  
  
Frank looked up from his journal. "You think so?" he asked.  
  
Hawk nodded. "Sure. Your finkness, perhaps. Or, maybe the fact that in personality you both act like Hitler. The only difference is that Herring looks a lot like him too."  
  
Trapper held up his martini glass. "I predict horrible things to come. Herring's like Ferret Face, only ten times worse and with some actual good looks."  
  
Frank threw down his medical journal and headed out the door, probably to Margaret's tent.  
  
"Oh, nertz!" 


	3. Der Colonel's Face

A/N-I don't own the original lyrics to "Der Fuehrer's Face", but I guess it really doesn't matter anyway, because I rewrote them.  
  
"Who the hell is on triage?" Trapper asked angrily. He was closing a very minor flesh wound. Hawkeye's case was slightly more serious. The soldier he was working on had been slashed in the face. "I don't know. I'm here, you're here, Calvin's here, and I think Ferret Face is here."  
  
Captain Calvin Spaulding looked up from a leg wound. "You're not gonna believe this, but Colonel Hitler is." Hawk's head snapped up. "Excuse me? Why is HE on triage? The colonel's not a doctor!" Spaulding shrugged.  
  
"Close for me," Hawkeye said to his nurse. "Yes, doctor."  
  
Hawkeye went into the Scrub Room, got dressed, and went out to the compound. There was a single ambulance sitting by the Pre-Op. As Hawkeye neared, he heard somebody yelling. "Corporal O'Reilly! I'm your superior officer, meaning you don't talk back! Is your skull really THAT thick?"  
  
Hawkeye grew angry. It was bad enough that Herring was a complete dunce when it came to triage (come to think of it, Hawkeye thought, he was a complete dunce at everything else too), but yelling at Radar? Hawk was as fond of the 19-year-old as everyone else in camp, and one thing he couldn't tolerate was Radar being screamed at.  
  
He climbed into the back of the ambulance, where he saw Radar struggling not to cry. When a single tear slipped down his cheek, Herring snapped, "You're a member of the United States Army! No crying!" Hawk put a hand on Radar's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "All right, what the hell's going on here?"  
  
The colonel looked Hawkeye right in the eye. "Tell your . . . your FRIEND here that I make the medical decisions. It's not up to him who gets treated and who doesn't, Captain!" Hawkeye grasped Radar's shoulder more tightly. "Look, there's a little thing called PRIORITY. In case you didn't know, priority means something to deal with right away. See this guy here?" he asked, motioning to a soldier with a slash across his chest. "His wound needs to be treated right away. The cases you've been sending us can wait."  
  
Herring's eyes flashed with anger. "You'll treat whoever I send in, Captain Pierce. Also, stop defending Corporal O'Reilly. This is a man's army, and O'Reilly needs to learn a thing or two about manhood. Got it?"  
  
He turned around and marched out without waiting for an answer. "Got it," muttered Hawkeye sarcastically. He turned back to Radar, who was holding his left cheek. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned. Radar gulped nervously and said quietly, "He hit me."  
  
Radar looked down at the floor. Hawkeye immediately took his hand away from his face, and was confronted with a rapidly growing bruise.  
  
"That asshole!" Hawk exclaimed angrily. "Come on, Radar. I'll take you to OR. You're gonna need a lot of ice."  
  
Hawkeye and Radar entered through Pre-Op, where Hawk scrubbed up again. When the two entered the operating room, Trapper looked up. "How'd it go, Hawk?" Hawkeye sighed with annoyance. "Damn Herring. He gives me some bullshit about how he makes the medical decisions. He also pops Radar in the jaw."  
  
Trapper rolled his eyes. From the next table, Frank glared at Hawkeye. "I certainly hope you weren't back talking to the Colonel. He IS a superior officer, after all."  
  
"Yeah, don't remind me," Hawkeye said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  
  
"You know, whenever I think about Herring, a particular song comes to mind," he said, beginning on the next patient. "I've been hanging around Radar too long. That same song comes to my mind too," replied Trapper. "Hey!" Radar shouted, holding an ice pack to his jaw. Ignoring him, Hawkeye and Trapper began to sing.  
  
"When der Colonel says, 'I'm der master of this place', we SPIT! SPIT! Right in der Colonel's face! Not to hate Der Colonel is a great disgrace, so we SPIT! SPIT! Right in der Colonel's face!  
  
"When Herr Herring says, 'I own der world und space', we SPIT! SPIT! Right in Herr Herring's face! When Herr Herring says to march around and pace, we SPIT! SPIT! Right in Herr Herring's face!"  
  
Hawkeye took over the next part.  
  
"Is he not a stupid man? A truly ugly, stupid man? Ja, he is a stupid man, a stupid, jackass man!"  
  
Trap sang the next verse.  
  
"Is this M*A*S*H unit not hell? Would you bomb it? We won't tell. Ja, this M*A*S*H unit is hell! If we could leave we'd run pell-mell!"  
  
Captain Spaulding joined in.  
  
"We bring the world disorder, Heil Herring's new disorder! Everyone of every race will stone der Colonel's face, when we bring to the world disorder!"  
  
All three sang.  
  
"When der Colonel says, 'I'm der master of this place', we SPIT! SPIT! Right in der Colonel's face! Not to hate Der Colonel is a great disgrace, so we SPIT! SPIT! Right in der Colonel's face! So we SPIT! SPIT! Right in der Colonel's face!"  
  
Frank glared again. "I protest this abuse against the Colonel!"  
  
Hawkeye grinned beneath his mask. "We protest you protesting the abuse against the Colonel!" 


	4. A Harmless Little Prank

"Oh . . . oh, Hawkeye, you're a terrific kisser."  
  
"Am I better than your husband?"  
  
"Hell, yeah. . ."  
  
Hawkeye and a certain nurse were sitting on Hawk's cot in the Swamp. Actually, sitting isn't quite the right word . . . Hawkeye lying on top of her is more like it.  
  
Radar saw them through the mesh. He hesitated, and then knocked on the Swamp door. "Uh, sir?"  
  
The nurse gasped and quickly shoved Hawkeye onto the floor. "Supply tent, tomorrow night?" Hawkeye asked hopefully. She nodded and left, holding the door open for Radar.  
  
"What I can do ya for, squirt?"  
  
Radar glared at Hawk, and then cleared his throat. "Well, I kinda need your help, sir." "Can't reach the nurse to kiss her? This is the VERY last time I'm lifting you up." Radar glared again. "Actually, it's Colonel Herring. Y'see, I want to go to Seoul to see Colonel Blake. The problem is, I really don't like to talk to Colonel Herring. So. . ."  
  
". . . You want me to ask him, that about right?" Hawkeye asked, getting up off the floor. Radar nodded. "All right, c'mon."  
  
The two crossed the dark compound and entered the CO's office, where Herring was reading a book. It was All Quiet on the Western Front. Figured.  
  
Hawk cleared his throat, and Herring looked up irritably. "What the hell do you want, Captain?" "Actually, it's more like: what the hell does Radar want?" "Don't get cute with me!"  
  
Hawkeye rolled his eyes, both shut of course so Herring didn't see. "Radar wants to go to Seoul to visit Henry."  
  
No response from Herring.  
  
Hawk massaged his left temple. "Okay, I'll put it into terms you might understand. Corporal O'Reilly wishes to go to Seoul as Lieutenant Colonel Blake is in a hospital there, and the corporal would like to visit him." He mentally shuddered at how . . . military that sounded.  
  
Colonel Herring looked thoughtful, and for a minute Radar hoped he would step out of character and let him go.  
  
"Request denied."  
  
Hawkeye and Radar both did a double-take. "What do you mean, request denied?" asked Radar, with more than a hint of anger in his voice. Hawk was a little surprised at Radar. He was beginning to step out of character himself. Herring's eyes shot daggers at the young man.  
  
"Don't talk back to a superior officer! How many times must I tell you, Corporal?"  
  
Radar glared daggers right back.  
  
"I'm not talking back to a superior officer! I'm talking back to YOU!"  
  
Hawkeye covered his mouth with a hand to hide a grin. "Way to go, Radar," he whispered.  
  
"Another thing!" Radar shouted, on a roll now. "I hate how you're always, ALWAYS, yelling at me and hitting me! Who do you think you ARE?"  
  
Herring answered by picking up his book, which was quite heavy by the way, walking over to Radar, and hitting him in the face with it. This time, it was Hawkeye who responded angrily.  
  
"DON'T YOU DARE HIT RADAR, COLONEL HITLER!"  
  
Herring, startled, took a step backwards from Hawk.  
  
"What the hell did you just call me?"  
  
He had a dangerous look in his eyes, but Hawkeye and Radar didn't care. "He called you Colonel Hitler, which fits you just fine. All I want is to go see Colonel Blake!" Radar said, quieter now.  
  
"You're both dismissed! I'll just pretend this never happened."  
  
"Don't worry," Hawkeye said to Radar as they left, "I think it's high time Herring had a prank played on him."  
  
"What are you gonna do, sir?"  
  
"Two things, okay? Number one, don't call me sir. Number two, you'll find out in the morning. Just get me a piece of wood and some white paint."  
  
Later, Herring sleepily made his way back to the VIP tent. He was so tired, he didn't notice anything different.  
  
Around four the next morning, Herring awoke to somebody giggling. He peered through the mesh of his tent and saw several people standing outside, snickering at something. His curiosity piqued, Herring got up and went outside. "What are you staring at?" Klinger was among the group, and he pointed to the sign above the door. Herring turned and read the sign.  
  
"All right, everyone. Haul everybody's asses outta bed and get into formation, pronto!"  
  
A few minutes later. . .  
  
Herring paced back and forth in front of the sloppy formation, with an agitated look on his face. Behind his back was a piece of wood. He finally stopped pacing and faced everyone. "Now, I would like to know who pulled a prank on me last night. Who the hell did this piece of work?" He brought the wood out front. It was the sign from the VIP tent. Only now, it read RIP. The camp burst into unrestrained laughter.  
  
"Everybody shut up!" The camp could practically see the vein popping out of Herring's head, and wisely shut up. Herring began to pace again, stopping in front of Radar. He pointed at him menacingly. "You. It was you, wasn't it, O'Reilly? Getting back at me for last night!" Radar, not at all like he had been the night before, stuttered and tried to say, "No, it wasn't me."  
  
"You are in BIG trouble, Corporal! You're on guard duty for the rest of the month, regardless of what Colonel Blake has to say." Herring said "Colonel Blake" with sarcasm. "Everyone else, dismissed! O'Reilly, come with me."  
  
As Hawkeye and Trapper went back to the Swamp, Hawk glanced behind him at Radar. Radar caught his eyes and glared.  
  
"I feel awful, Trap." "Nothin' a martini can't fix," Trapper replied, "Care for a gargle?" Hawkeye sat down on his cot and gratefully took the glass. "Why do you feel awful?" Hawk sighed. "That prank . . . I'm the one who did it, not Radar." Trapper sat down on his own cot. "Well, why didn't you say something? Now, Herring's gonna do God knows what to Radar."  
  
In the CO's office, Radar stood at a nervous attention. The glare from Herring was enough to turn Radar into a puddle. The colonel got up from his chair, stood in front of Radar, and swiftly punched him in the eye, shattering his glasses. "Ow . . ."  
  
"Think that's bad? Well, let me tell you something, O'Reilly," Herring said furiously, "That punch was a friendly cuff compared to what I'm really capable of!" Radar couldn't agree more. "Yes, sir."  
  
Herring sat down again. "Now, you are on guard duty for a month. Understand that?" Radar nodded nervously. "You better just watch your back, because if you screw up even a little bit, look out for my fist."  
  
Radar's hand shook as he saluted the colonel, and he left.  
  
The next day, July 29th, Radar went over to check on his animals. He needed some comfort right now. Only, he couldn't get it.  
  
His wooden kennel was gone.  
  
Radar's chocolate brown eyes filled with tears. Where the kennel had stood was a note. He picked it up.  
  
"Corporal O'Reilly,  
  
I have disposed of your kennel and have had your animals killed.  
  
Colonel Herring"  
  
That was all the note said.  
  
Radar clenched his hands, so hard the knuckles turned white. The anger, mingled with sadness over his animals, welled up in his chest and exploded. "THAT BASTARD! I'M GONNA KILL HIM!"  
  
**************************  
  
Henry waited until Lieutenant Reynolds had gone, and then reached under his mattress and pulled out the canteen filled with rum that General Hammond had sneaked in the day before. He drank from it deeply, feeling the long- awaited liquid slide down his throat. Pure bliss.  
  
A few moments later, the canteen slipped out of his hand as the worst pain Henry had ever experienced shot through his entire body. His heart was pounding madly, and he involuntarily grabbed at his left arm. "AAAAHHHHH!"  
  
Lieutenant Reynolds was just coming back when she heard Henry's cry of pain. She ran in the room, and saw Henry go completely limp, now unconscious. Reynolds turned on her heel and ran down the hallway, yelling for Captain Douglas. She caught him rounding the corner.  
  
"Jud . . . Judy, what is it? What's the matter?"  
  
Reynolds fought for breath. "It's Colonel Blake. I think . . . I think he's having a heart attack!" 


	5. Matters of the Dying Heart

Last time on Survi . . . uh, Colonel Hitler:  
  
"Jud . . . Judy, what is it? What's the matter?"  
  
Reynolds fought for breath. "It's Colonel Blake. I think . . . I think he's having a heart attack!"  
  
**************************  
  
Captain Douglas' brown eyes widened. "Quick, Judy! Get a stretcher! Find Captain Browning, tell him to come to OR, on the double!"  
  
Reynolds ran off. Douglas went into Henry's room and checked the unconscious colonel's pulse. "It's weak," he murmured, "but we might be able to save him. Colonel, just hold on for your dear, damn life!"  
  
Douglas' shoe kicked something. He leaned over and picked it up. It was Henry's canteen. Douglas took the cap off and held the opening up to his nose. "Rum!" he exclaimed. "That's what brought the heart attack on, coupled with his injuries."  
  
Reynolds and another nurse rushed into the room with a stretcher; they gently lifted Henry onto it and went as fast as they could to OR. Captain Browning, a talented young surgeon, was already there, scrubbed up and ready to go.  
  
Captain Douglas scrubbed up, and the two surgeons made their way to the operating table where Henry lay, his shirt opened up. Douglas and Browning started the operation and everything was going well, until . . .  
  
"Damn it! His heart stopped!" Browning shouted. "Reynolds, get me some adrenaline; prepare for open heart massage."  
  
Browning massaged Henry's heart for a full half-hour before he managed to get it started up again. "Well done, Captain," Reynolds said, smiling underneath her surgical mask.  
  
"Hold on," Douglas said, raising a hand, "Browning, I think you contaminated the area."  
  
Browning gasped. "What?"  
  
Douglas continued. "Because the heart area had already been contaminated the first time, you just made it worse! Henry's not going to make it, I'm afraid."  
  
With shaking hands, Browning closed the skin, and peeled his bloody gloves off, sighing. "I really thought I had done it."  
  
At that moment, Henry woke up from the anesthesia. "Captain! He's awake," said Reynolds.  
  
Captain Douglas went to Henry's side. Henry still had his eyes shut. "Colonel? Colonel Blake?"  
  
Henry didn't respond, and Douglas said, "Henry?"  
  
Now, he opened his eyes. He stared straight into Douglas' eyes, and murmured something. "Excuse me?" the doctor asked, leaning in closer.  
  
Henry tried again, louder, but his voice was fading.  
  
"Tell . . . Lorraine, that I . . .I have always loved her, and that . . .and that I'm sorry . . .about the girl in Tokyo."  
  
Henry closed his eyes, and the color left his face.  
  
"Colonel? Colonel?" Douglas said, shaking him. He put his ear to Henry's chest, and heard no heartbeat.  
  
Douglas stood up solemnly. "He's gone."  
  
**************************  
  
It was beautiful.  
  
Henry looked around him, amazed.  
  
"Wow . . ." 


	6. To Heaven and Back

He was in heaven.  
  
Literally.  
  
"Gosh, this place is so beautiful . . ."  
  
"Isn't it?"  
  
A voice startled Henry. It sounded vaguely familiar. Out from behind a cloud stepped another man and he LOOKED vaguely familiar.  
  
"Henry Blake, right?"  
  
Henry nodded.  
  
The man took Henry's hand and shook it heartily. "You remember me, don't ya? Tommy Gillis!"  
  
Henry suddenly smiled in recognition. "Tommy! It's great to see you again . . . in heaven."  
  
"Oh, yeah . . ." Tommy said. "I have a welcoming gift for ya!" He held out his right hand, palm up, and a bottle of gin materialized.  
  
"Here," he said, handing him the bottle. "Th . . . thanks," Henry replied, "Can you materialize anything?"  
  
"Yep, you can too."  
  
Henry concentrated on the image of a glass and nearly fell over with surprise when one appeared in his hand.  
  
"This is fantastic," he murmured as he poured some gin into the glass. He was just about to take a drink from it when Tommy grabbed his shoulder.  
  
"Not yet! Wait until God's not looking!"  
  
Henry, who was unable to see God as of yet, was looking around for a tall man glowing brightly, but Tommy just stood, waiting patiently.  
  
"Okay, he's not looking anymore. Safe to drink."  
  
Henry swallowed a mouthful of gin before asking, "How do you know when God's not looking? I don't see him anywhere." "It depends on two things."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
Tommy said, "You haven't been here as long as I have, so naturally you don't know what God looks like and so can't see him. Also, it depends on how many times you went to church while you were alive."  
  
"I never went to church. On Sundays, my father and I would toss a football back and forth in the yard."  
  
Tommy nodded. "That explains it. When I was a kid, I was practically DRAGGED to church every Sunday."  
  
He looked behind his shoulder. "Oh, I forgot! Henry, there's some people who'd like to meet you."  
  
Henry turned around and saw two other people walking towards him, a man and a woman. The middle-aged woman didn't look familiar at all, but the sight of the old man nearly took Henry's breath away. "Radar . . ."  
  
The squat man smiled. So did Henry. "You must be . . ."  
  
". . . Walter's father, Eugene. You're Henry Blake."  
  
Henry chuckled. "At least now I know where . . ."  
  
". . . Walter got his ability from. Can hardly understand it myself!"  
  
The woman stuck out her hand, and Henry shook it. "You don't know me. My name's Helen. I believe you know my son, Benjamin?"  
  
"Benja . . .oh, Hawkeye!" Henry said, realizing who this was, "Mrs. Pierce, it's a treat to meet you!"  
  
Helen grinned; Henry had seen that grin so many times on Hawkeye's face. "There's somebody else who wants to see you." She turned toward a nearby cloud embankment. "Sweetheart?"  
  
A little girl shyly peeked out from behind the cloud. She looked exactly like her mother, the same dark blue eyes and light brown hair. "Come on, hon. Don't be shy."  
  
Slowly, cautiously, the girl made her way over to Helen and clung onto her leg, her thumb in her mouth.  
  
Detaching her daughter, Helen smiled and said, "Henry, this is my daughter. Cassie, this is your brother's friend, Henry. Say hello."  
  
Cassie, who looked no more than four, the age she had been when she died of pneumonia, giggled nervously and waved at Henry. "Well, one thing's for sure; she ain't like Hawkeye at all!"  
  
Tommy spoke up. "Sometimes, that's a good thing," and set the whole group, minus Cassie, laughing.  
  
Henry sighed suddenly. "Boy, am I gonna miss them."  
  
Tommy grew serious. "There was another reason why they came. We need to talk to you." "About what?" Eugene, quiet like Radar, said, "About how you're needed back on Earth."  
  
Henry rolled his eyes. "Please don't go It's a Wonderful Life on me. Can't stand that movie."  
  
Helen hoisted Cassie up. "Henry, be serious. My son's unit needs you, badly." "Walter needs you," said his father.  
  
"Nah, they don't need me."  
  
"You don't believe us? Have a look for yourself, then," Tommy replied. He led Henry to the edge of the cloud and had him look down on the Earth. To his surprise, Henry could clearly see the 4077th.  
  
Tommy grinned. "Wonderful thing about being a spirit. You can observe everything that goes on down there."  
  
**************************  
  
Down below, Hawkeye, Trapper, and Frank were all in OR operating. As Henry watched, Radar entered the double doors, moving like he was in a trance.  
  
Trapper looked over at him. "Radar, put a mask on!"  
  
Without looking up from his patient, Hawkeye added, "If that's Herring's discharge, give it to us straight, we can take it."  
  
Radar cleared his throat. "I have a message."  
  
The OR grew quiet.  
  
"Lieutenant Colonel . . . Henry Blake . . . died of a heart attack . . . around 0900 hours . . . this morning. He is survived by . . . his wife, Lorraine . . . his daughters, Janie and Molly . . . and his son, Andrew."  
  
With that, Radar walked out.  
  
It was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop.  
  
**************************  
  
Henry's heart broke at watching Radar struggle with that message. "Poor kiddo . . ." he whispered.  
  
"That's not all though," Eugene said, coming to Henry's side. "You oughta see their CO."  
  
Henry grimaced. "Something deep down inside tells me I don't want to."  
  
"You're going to anyway," said Helen.  
  
**************************  
  
"Corporal O'Reilly!"  
  
Radar winced as Herring's yell cut through the air like a machete. "Ye . . . yes, sir?"  
  
"In my office, NOW!"  
  
Radar's hand automatically covered his jaw, just in case Herring hit him again. His own mother wouldn't recognize him with all those yellowish- purple bruises.  
  
He tentatively opened the door to the CO's office and saluted Herring, trying not to let the colonel see his hand shaking.  
  
"Who just called?"  
  
Radar gulped. "Th . . . the hospital in Seoul. Colonel Blake . . . well, he died."  
  
Herring smirked. "No big loss. Looks like your 'second father' won't be covering you after all, O'Reilly!"  
  
As he left, it was all Radar could do to keep from crying.  
  
**************************  
  
"See?" Helen said, stroking Cassie's hair.  
  
"Unfortunately," came the response.  
  
Henry was shocked; no, beyond shocked!  
  
"Wow, that Colonel . . . uh, name?"  
  
"Herring," Tommy supplied, "but they call him Colonel Hitler."  
  
Henry snickered at that.  
  
"Well, anyhoo, as I was saying, that Colonel Hitler makes me look like the perfect CO!"  
  
The others couldn't agree more.  
  
"Come on, do it for Walter."  
  
"Do it for Benjamin."  
  
Tommy grabbed Henry's shoulder.  
  
"Do it for the whole damn 4077th!"  
  
With a sense of purpose in his eyes, Henry formed his right hand into a fist and held it in the air. "Look out, Colonel Hitler! Here comes Colonel Blake."  
  
**************************  
  
Captain Douglas and Captain Browning stood at the hospital's side entrance, watching the corpsmen carefully bring out the table that held Henry's body. Douglas signaled to an ambulance driver to bring it around, and as the corpsmen began to lift Henry's body into the ambulance to be taken to Kimpo, a sudden movement startled one of them, making them drop their corner.  
  
"What the hell?" exclaimed Browning, as the previously dead Henry Braymore Blake tossed aside the white sheet that had been over his head, jumped down from the table, and took off running.  
  
"Gotta get back! Don't worry, Radar . . . I'm coming!" 


	7. Reactions

Radar glanced around nervously. He was on guard duty, as punishment, and if there was one thing Radar O'Reilly hated, it was being outside after dark. However, there was a plus side to guard duty; Radar had to keep his mind on the job, and that meant he wasn't thinking about Henry.  
  
He didn't want to.  
  
He didn't want to think about all the good times he and Henry had shared together, all the times he played golf caddy, and least of all, the very last time he had seen Henry.  
  
Radar knew that if he started going down memory lane, he would begin crying and never stop.  
  
**************************  
  
As he neared the camp, Henry's heart quickened its pace. He had been on his feet for the whole day, sometimes walking, sometimes jogging, sometimes at a full run. Nobody had seemed to want to give him a ride back. Could he blame them?  
  
"Finally, things are gonna be comparatively normal again."  
  
**************************  
  
Hawkeye downed what must have been his sixth or seventh martini; he had lost track.  
  
Both he and Trapper were still reeling from the blow that Radar had delivered. Henry, dead? The more he thought about it, the more intoxicated Hawkeye became. Trap had gone to Rosie's, and had drunken himself into unconsciousness. Hawk hoped to do the same so he would have no memory of this day.  
  
"Henry . . ."  
  
**************************  
  
In the CO's office, a Korean man stood in front of Herring's desk. Herring stood up and shook the man's hand, smiling broadly.  
  
"You did a damn good job, Chang-Sun. Colonel Blake has finally kicked the bucket, and I'm in permanent command of this unit! For a Korean, you're a good shot."  
  
Chang-Sun bowed respectfully and silently left the office.  
  
Herring grinned happily.  
  
*************************  
  
Frank was in Margaret's tent. To keep from thinking about Henry, they were making out on Margaret's cot.  
  
Margaret's heart wasn't in it, however. "I'm sorry, Frank. My heart's just not in it."  
  
See?  
  
"Margaret," Frank whined, "would you just forget about Colonel Blake? He's dead, and there's nothing we can do about it. Now, kiss me!"  
  
**************************  
  
Radar froze.  
  
A figure was in the distance, but getting closer. Radar's hands trembled. "I can't shoot this thing, I can't! What am I gonna do?"  
  
The figure neared, and Radar slowly raised the gun up. The figure suddenly broke into a run, and before Radar knew what was happening, he had been engulfed in a huge hug.  
  
"I'm back," the person whispered.  
  
Radar could hardly believe his ears. "Colonel Blake?" 


	8. Fight, Fight, Fight, Fight!

Last time on Sur . . . gah! I did it again! *note to self-burn all taped Survivor episodes*  
  
Aw, screw it.  
  
**************************  
  
Radar's heart pounded with joy. Henry was back, really back!  
  
Henry and Radar stood embraced for quite a few minutes before finally pulling back. However, Henry's big smile died away at the sight of Radar's face.  
  
"Kid, what happened?"  
  
"Oh," Radar said, gingerly touching a bruise, "Colonel Herring hits me when he thinks I've done something wrong . . ." He trailed away as Henry's eyes grew hard with anger.  
  
"Come on, Radar. We're going to see Herring and talk to him."  
  
**************************  
  
Herring was polishing his desk, because General Hammond was coming to place him in permanent command of the 4077th. He was whistling "When Johnny Comes Marching Home" and didn't notice Radar and Henry standing at the doorway of the office. Radar cleared his throat.  
  
"Uh, sir?"  
  
Herring sighed in annoyance and turned around. "What is it, Cor . . ."  
  
He stopped when he saw Henry. All of the color left his face and he had trouble finding his bearings. Henry smiled and stretched out his hand. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake, and I believe that's my desk you're polishing."  
  
Herring glared. Ignoring Henry's hand, he turned to Radar, furious. "What is this asshole doing here?"  
  
Radar was indignant. "He's not an asshole, sir! He's the CO and from where I'm standing, YOU look an awful lot like an asshole! Sir."  
  
Henry whistled. "Radar sure has changed."  
  
Herring finally lost it. With an animal-like growl, both hands shot forward and grabbed Radar by the throat. Radar tried to get out of Herring's grasp, but the colonel just made his grip tighter and tighter.  
  
Herring might've strangled Radar if not for a punch directed at his jaw. He fell back, dazed. Radar, coughing and wheezing, looked at Henry with gratitude in his eyes.  
  
Henry was angrier than Radar had ever seen him. His fists were clenched, and for the first time, there was a dangerous look in his eye. Radar had never been more grateful.  
  
When Henry spoke, his voice was low and shaking. "If you EVER do that again, Colonel . . ."  
  
The sentence was left unfinished as Herring sprang back up and delivered a blow to Henry's stomach. The two men started a fistfight.  
  
Radar ran for help. He reached the Swamp and banged open the door without knocking. "God, Radar, not so loud," said Hawkeye, his head in his hands.  
  
"Captain Pierce, I need your help! It's Colonel Herring and Colonel Blake!" Hawk's eyes perked up at Henry's name.  
  
"Radar, did somebody spike your Grape Nehi? Henry's dead."  
  
Radar shook his head vigorously. "Please come quick!"  
  
Hawkeye sighed and grabbed his red robe.  
  
**************************  
  
Henry broke open his liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of gin. When Herring attempted to swing at him, Henry broke the bottle over his head. Herring fell.  
  
Covered in gin, the broken bottle in his hand, Henry stood over Herring, panting. Radar and Hawkeye rushed in.  
  
"HENRY!!!!"  
  
In a single bound, Hawk was at Henry's side, throwing his arms around his friend. Henry chuckled despite a growing bruise under his left eye. "Good to see you too, Hawk."  
  
Frank and Margaret barged in. "What is the meaning of this? We heard strange noises coming from the office," Margaret said. Frank nodded in agreement.  
  
Henry broke away from Hawkeye and waved at Frank and Margaret like a little kid. "Hey guys."  
  
Needless to say, both were shocked.  
  
"Colonel Blake?" Frank said in disbelief. Henry thought he detected a little disappointment too.  
  
"The one and only."  
  
Herring groaned slightly, prompting Margaret to drop to her knees and check his injuries. "Did you do this to Colonel Herring?" she demanded. Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "Well, judging from the gin, I'd say Henry did it, because I think that's a waste of perfectly good gin."  
  
Margaret glared.  
  
Herring began to stir, and opened his eyes. "What the hell happened?" His gaze fell on Henry, who grinned.  
  
"YOU!"  
  
The colonel tried to stand, but nearly fell again as dizziness overcame him. Margaret hurriedly supported him with her arm.  
  
"Sir! Sir, the general's here," yelled Klinger as he came into the office in a full Victorian dress. "Just great," mumbled Herring as he tried to clear his head. 


	9. Captain Henry Blake

Last time on 7th Hea . . . NO!!!!!!!!!  
  
Um . . .oh, yeah! Henry returned to camp, and finally, somebody beat the crap out of Herring! However, everyone, especially Henry, is now in for an unpleasant surprise . . .  
  
**************************  
  
Herring shook Margaret loose and managed to walk over to his desk chair. Frank knelt down, grabbed Herring's hat, and gave it to him, with Herring snatching it out of his hands and jamming it on his head.  
  
The general marched in, trying to hide the tears that were constantly coming into his eyes and threatening to spill over any second.  
  
Just sit back, stare at the hole in your ceiling, and imagine the general's shock at seeing Henry as soon as he walked into the office.  
  
. . .Are you imagining it?  
  
Good.  
  
"C-Colonel Blake?"  
  
A child-like grin spread across Henry's face. You know the kind, when a kid has an exciting secret that they want to share badly and chances are will?  
  
"Good evening, General Hammond. Long time, no see."  
  
Hammond, a big, strong general, nearly fainted.  
  
He caught himself just in time. "I thought you were dead, Colonel! Captain Douglas phoned me this morning with the news, and . . .good lord."  
  
"A-hem!"  
  
Everyone turned to look at Herring. He had apparently recovered from the fight, and the look in his eyes was enough to start another ice age. His right index finger was pointing menacingly at Henry.  
  
"Lieutenant Colonel Blake is not, I repeat NOT, to resume command. I'm in charge of the 4077th now, General, and no one is going to take that away from me!"  
  
General Hammond said, "May I remind you, Colonel, that I have authority over you, and that you obey my every order?"  
  
"Not anymore!"  
  
With that, Herring reached for his belt and whipped out a pistol. "I'm fully prepared to kill, if things come to that, General. No snot-nosed, incompetent moron is going to take control away from Colonel Gus Herring!"  
  
Hawkeye sniggered uncontrollably. "GUS? Can someone say barf?"  
  
Unfortunately, Herring heard that, and almost without thinking turned the gun on Hawk and fired. Hawkeye fell to the floor, blood pouring from his abdomen.  
  
"Captain Pierce!" cried Radar, quite forgetting his fear. He dropped to his knees beside Hawkeye, and was about to help him up when Herring fired another shot, this time as a warning. "Get up, O'Reilly! Leave him there, the world will be better off without that smart-aleck!"  
  
He now turned the gun back to Henry and Hammond. Frank and Margaret managed to slip unnoticed out the door. "Now . . .now, look here, Colonel," Henry said, voice shaking, "I have developed a small fear of guns, and if you could be a pal, maybe put that away, we'd all feel a lot better." Hammond and Radar backed Henry up with overly enthusiastic nods.  
  
Herring pursed his lips. He carefully put the pistol on safety, and slowly lowered it. Henry, Hammond, and Radar could relax slightly.  
  
"Fine, I won't shoot anymore. On two conditions, however."  
  
"Yes?" prompted Hammond.  
  
"You make me permanent commander and demote Blake to captain."  
  
Henry's jaw dropped. "Ya gotta be kidding me, Herring! Tell me you're joking!"  
  
The pistol was brought out again, and Henry clammed up. "General, your choice. Either meet my demands, or play a little game I like to call 'Hide And Shoot'."  
  
Hammond turned the matter over in his head for what seemed to the other men, minus Hawkeye, forever, and came to an unfortunate conclusion.  
  
"All right, Herring, all right. Henry, over here."  
  
Heart sinking, Henry walked over to Hammond's side, moving like a sleepwalker. Henry wished that he was sleepwalking and that this whole evening was just a terrible dream. Pinching himself shattered that wish.  
  
(A/N-I don't know how a demotion goes. My dad is only PROmoted.)  
  
A few minutes later, Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake was officially Captain Henry Blake. Herring smiled. "All right, now Captain Pierce may be attended to."  
  
With Colonel Gus Herring now in full command, the M*A*S*H 4077th was sure to go to hell in a hand basket. 


	10. Trapper's Drunken Stupor

Let's deviate slightly from the story and check on the brave and noble Captain McIntyre, shall we?  
  
D'oh! Almost forgot . . . *heaves sigh*  
  
A/N-I haven't been doing a disclaimer for any of my stories, might as well start now. I am currently negotiating with Fox for ownership of the show, and things are looking good for me.  
  
. . . you actually believed that?  
  
Anyway, let's see what Trapper's up to.  
  
**************************  
  
"Oh, God."  
  
Ah . . . that would be Trap now.  
  
He was lying just outside Rosie's Bar. After drifting back into consciousness, he had started to order Rosie around, and, coupling this with threats, Rosie had lost her temper and tossed Trapper out. Literally.  
  
"Never come here again, Captain!" Rosie shouted at the door. Trapper turned his head and smiled. "Good afternoon *hic* to you too, Rose." The door slammed shut.  
  
The sun was just tiptoeing over the horizon, and Trap managed to stagger to his feet. He shielded his eyes with his right hand, although there was barely any light, and took an uneasy step . . .  
  
. . . which ended up in a face full of dirt.  
  
He had never felt so bad. He crawled over to a nearby bush, and . . . uh . . . erm . . . I'm kinda eating breakfast as I write this, and I think you get the picture.  
  
Trapper crawled from the bush, and stood up again. His legs were shaking uncontrollably, but this time he managed to start walking, albeit in a weaving fashion.  
  
"Hawk's *hic* probably worried about me. I'd better get *hic* back to the Swamp and *hic* grab a nurse. He'll think I was there the whole time."  
  
Cheered by this drunken thought, Trap plastered a grin on his face and kept walking.  
  
As the last few stars faded, Trapper head began to throb unbearably. "Great, the *hic* hangover cometh."  
  
He sank to his knees, and began to cry. "Curse you, Henry Blake! If *hic* you hadn't gone and died, I wouldn't be feeling so *hic* miserable right now!"  
  
Trapper dried his tears on the front of his shirt. He stood too quickly and immediately began to . . .I've been through this already. See the Poptart? *Waves Poptart in front of screen*  
  
The lights of camp were just ahead, and Trap smiled.  
  
He staggered into camp and had just reached the Swamp when suddenly Henry dashed by, dressed in his surgical garb, followed by Radar and Klinger bearing a stretcher. Trapper couldn't see who the person on the stretcher was, but he saw Henry and waved.  
  
"Hey, Henry," he said casually.  
  
Trap opened the door to the Swamp and collapsed onto his cot.  
  
All was quiet.  
  
For about ten seconds.  
  
"WHAT THE HELL?!" 


	11. Herring's Childhood Part One

Herring sighed.  
  
"As if my life wasn't bad enough, now I got Blake to worry about."  
  
Herring put his head down on his desk, and his thoughts began to drift back to the night of July 27th.  
  
"What did that Pierce call me? Colonel . . . Hitler?"  
  
Herring was angry for an instant, and then the anger faded away.  
  
"Oh, well, that's nothing compared to what everybody at home used to call me."  
  
He growled bitterly. "Rat-face!"  
  
He began thinking about his childhood.  
  
**************************  
  
September 6th, 1920  
  
"Boy, get down here this instant!"  
  
Pearl Herring's shrill voice shattered the morning calm.  
  
A five-year-old boy slowly came down the steps. His dark brown hair was tousled, and his blue eyes were filled with fear. "Yes, Mama?"  
  
Pearl grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and forced him into the kitchen, where the boy's father, Jack, stood with a switch in his hand.  
  
"Over here, boy!" he barked.  
  
"My name's Gus. Not boy."  
  
Jack was in a drunken rage, as usual. "I'm hearing the same mouth that the teacher heard yesterday, callin' her a witch!"  
  
Gus was outraged. "She made that up, Papa! She hates me!"  
  
"No wonder she hates you," Pearl said, "I don't see why ANYONE would like you, you miserable excuse for a human being!"  
  
Gus knew his eyes were filling with tears, but if he let even one tear fall, he'd be switched. He struggled to contain them.  
  
His parents weren't much to look at. Jack was a huge man, unshaven, smelly, and prone to drinking too much and throwing violent fits. He always carried that switch around, just in case his son was doing something he deemed wrong. His dark eyes glared out at the world, and his brown hair was always a mess.  
  
Pearl was nothing like her name. Her blonde hair was stringy and thin, her blue eyes reflecting the coldness of her heart. Pearl had a voice that could break glass, and it was this voice that Gus was forced to listen to day after miserable day.  
  
Both parents hadn't wanted a son at all. It had been purely accidental, if you can call two drunken strangers lying in a bed together accidental. In truth, they hated each other, but the only reason Jack didn't divorce Pearl was because she had a rich great-aunt.  
  
Gus, in their eyes, was the reason they were unhappy.  
  
A tear suddenly splashed on the kitchen floor, and Gus automatically winced, knowing what was coming. It came.  
  
The switch lashed his face, and Gus fell to the floor. Jack picked him up and started slapping him as hard as he could.  
  
When it was finally over, Pearl yanked Gus by the hair, dragged him upstairs, and locked him in his room. "I don't want to have to see your ugly hide today, Rat-face! I wish I never had to see it again!" Gus listened to his mother's footsteps, and when they disappeared, he went over to the gray wall, picked up a pencil, and started drawing, muttering under his breath all the while.  
  
"I hate them, I wish they would die a long and horrible death."  
  
The very next day, his wish actually came true.  
  
**************************  
  
Herring still remembered when the police officer came to school.  
  
"Is a Gus Herring here?"  
  
Gus slowly stood up, wondering if he was in trouble.  
  
"Gus, come with me."  
  
Nervously, he followed the officer out into the schoolyard. They stopped under a big oak tree.  
  
"Gus, it's about your mother and father. They were in their wagon on the road to town, your father must've been drinking . . ."  
  
Gus smiled for the first time in a long, long time. "They're dead?"  
  
"Yes, I am so sorry, sonny."  
  
"Don't be!"  
  
The officer, needless to say, was puzzled.  
  
**************************  
  
Herring smiled slightly. He had liked that cop.  
  
"Good man, changed my life." 


	12. Herring's Childhood Part Two

As he didn't have any immediate family, Gus was sent to the local orphanage.  
  
Gus had thought he'd be happier in the orphanage, but from the very first day, it was like his parents were still alive.  
  
The other children adored the orphanage owner, Sarah Blake, but she always went out of her way to make Gus miserable. She would give extra treats and toys to the other orphans, particularly a girl about Gus's age named Elizabeth, but Gus was never given ANY treats or toys.  
  
"Not fair . . . why don't people like me?" he wondered out loud one day.  
  
Elizabeth, a red-haired girl with big blue eyes, sauntered over to him.  
  
"Um, hello, Gus . . ." she said, shyly.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
This was said in a rather cross tone, but Elizabeth managed to ignore it.  
  
"Maybe you need to smile more. I've never seen you smile once."  
  
Gus rolled his eyes. "A smile. Sure." He had never met somebody so ridiculous as Elizabeth.  
  
"Well, I like you. Wanna be friends?"  
  
Gus nearly did a double take. " 'Wanna be WHAT?'"  
  
"Friends."  
  
Gus took a deep breath, and then, as if his voice box had a mind of its own, slowly said, "Yes."  
  
**************************  
  
Gus and Elizabeth were inseparable after that. They ate together, read together, even napped together (Not like that! You pervert.)  
  
The years went by, and soon both Gus and Elizabeth were un-adopted seventeen year olds . . .  
  
. . . and faced with a slight problem.  
  
"Gus?" Elizabeth said worriedly, "We've napped together every day since we were five."  
  
"Yeah, so?"  
  
"I think this time we went a little overboard."  
  
Gus's heart sank.  
  
"I think I'm pregnant."  
  
. . .OK, so maybe it WAS like that. 


End file.
